


In the Blink of an Eye

by Red_and_R3d



Category: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bruce just really likes John's mouth okay, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Open ended, Oral Fixation, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex, bruce's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 01:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15450138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_and_R3d/pseuds/Red_and_R3d
Summary: You try to pretend its something else. That what you're feeling has entirely nothing to do with John, but rather the signs of some underlying illness. Instinctively, your mind commences a self-evaluation, studying your symptoms: increased heart-rate, loss of appetite, intrusive thoughts, loss of focus, increased arousal...Still, no matter how many times you try to analyze yourself, the diagnosis remains the same.It's love.





	In the Blink of an Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Just a day in your life  
> And I would die happily evermore  
> But if you're spending the night  
> Then what the hell is heaven even for?  
> ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98CTUyObHmc))

John was many things. Mischievous, debonair, alluring, just to name a few. However, one of the most notable things about John is that he was loud. When he laughed the whole world heard it. When he was angry, his shouts could shake the room. Even when he was in deep in thought, words would eventually tumble from his mouth, growing in volume until everyone within arms reach had a front row seat to his inner monologues. Then again, maybe that was just a privilege earned by being his friend; for him to be comfortable enough to openly express himself, even when his thoughts didn't always make sense.

 

There was something uniquely special about the way John talked. One minute John's tone would be cool and unnerving, like a snake slowly uncoiling from beneath the rocks. Yet the next, his voice was like a bird, chittering endlessly between melodic tones of highs and lows. Sometimes in conversation he would speak in questions, as if giving you the full picture would spoil some surprise. Other times he would flip topics likes flapjacks, jumping from one interesting point to another with an impressive amount of skill, leaving no detail behind, no matter how insignificant. In short, talking with John was truly a spectacle to behold.

 

Though, John's voice is not his only captivating feature...

 

There may also be the matter of how he purses his lips in thought. Or how those same lips could stretch and give way to the widest shit-eating grin you've ever seen. Devilish and enticing all the same. How those delicate lips will seal themselves around a straw as he languidly sips his drink, hollowing his cheeks, slurping at such an agonizingly slow pace. And lets not forget those rare moments when he will lick his lips before catching the bottom one between his teeth after telling a joke he finds to be particularly funny.

 

You assume that all these little details are just something your detective brain collected by habit. Just. Habit. Nothing more...

 

"Master Bruce."

 

Your attention immediately snaps back to reality. You tilt your head over your shoulder to find Alfred, arms folded behind his back as he looks down on you, soft smile growing on his face.

 

"I noticed you seemed to have drifted into your thoughts, and I presumed it would be best to notify you that it is in fact 3 am."

 

You quirk an eyebrow. Had it really been so long? It felt like just a minute ago you had gazed out towards a setting sun, watching the silhouette of Gotham melt into the deep blue hues of the twilight horizon. You turn your head to the right to check the window once again, only to find Gotham immersed in a moonless night, illuminating the clouds above with it's poisonous glow.

 

"So it seems..." You mention as you turn your head back to Alfred. "Though I'm surprised that you're still awake Al. Especially on a night with no trouble."

 

Alfred raises his shoulders as he takes in a heavy breath, yet instinctively brings his hand to his face as he finds himself unable to withhold a yawn.

 

"As I am sure you're far more than aware of sir, one's duties never cease." He shifts and begins walking towards the door, "However it is wise to take advantage of this opportunity while still available. I best turn in for the night, and I suggest you do the same Master Bruce. Who knows how soon duty shall call you again."

 

You rise from your position on the couch to quell the flames of the fireplace. However, as you leave the billards room your body feels as if the fire is still burning just inches away from you, heating evermore as a bright smile flashes widely in your mind.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
The hot water pierces your skin like needles, slowly pulling all the tension in your shoulders down the drain as you press your hands firmly against the tiled wall. You lean back further into the water, combing your hands through your hair and rotating your neck. You catch sight of your hazy reflection in the shower door and take note of how long your hair has become. You squeeze some of the water out and massage your scalp to get a feel of the length. Its almost bizarre to see your own hair uncoifed; all disheveled with some slight curl at the ends. You've had the same haircut since you were about eight years old, maintaining the dignified appearance expected for the social elite. Still, it will never cease to be a pain to you. Your hair is naturally thick and wavy, and the upkeep is both tedious and ridiculous.

 

Your mind drifts and you find yourself wondering what John does to maintain his hair. You can tell he does his best to coif it, but he doesn't seem to gel it down too much, granted how it pokes out everywhere. Maybe that's just his style, and if it is, it works perfect for him. It's just the right amount of control and chaos, and reflective of his retro style. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you remember him bursting out of his hahacienda wearing his thrift store best, snacks packed and beaming with excitement for the "road trip". Those vibrant green eyes peeking over his shades while licking his lips before shinning you the biggest grin you've ever seen. Your mind lingers a little too long on John, and before you can care to catch yourself, your thoughts dive deep into much more intimate ideas.

 

You wonder what John's hair would look like in the shower. Would it become curly and wild from the humidity? Would it stick against his face and neck, veiling his emerald eyes? Would the heat of the water make his porcelain skin flush pink? Would he stretch out his limber fingers against the tile as he immersed himself in the massaging heat, moaning about how good it feels, unable to keep quiet even in private...

 

 

_'Oh Brucie!'_

 

 

Your eyes flash open, greeted with a miasma of steam as you realize your head is pressed against the shower wall, while your left hand is wrapped firmly around your half-hardened cock.

 

"Shit..." You bring your right hand to your face, pressing your temples between your fingers. Your brow cringes as you shake your head, fighting to get his face out of your mind. Yet all you continue to see is John smiling viciously, knowingly, brow quirked while he fights back giggles behind his teeth, exposed like a predator's with that damn mouth, and it all sends a shiver down your spine.

 

You know you shouldn't. John is your friend for God's sake. To think about him in such a way...It feels so dishonest, so dirty. Yet it's something you can't ever seem to stop. The more time you spend with John, the less you want to leave him. The more you're with him outside of the Pact, the more you forget about your mission. His presence alone is intoxicating. When you're away from him you feel like you're suffocating; lungs left without air in the absence of his presence.

 

You try to pretend its something else. That what you're feeling has entirely nothing to do with John, but rather the signs of some underlying illness. Instinctively, your mind commences a self-evaluation, studying your symptoms: increased heart-rate, loss of appetite, intrusive thoughts, loss of focus, increased arousal...Still, no matter how many times you try to analyze yourself, the diagnosis remains the same.

 

 

It's love.

 

  
You feel like you're choking on air. Just saying the word in your head, acknowledging it so simply. It feels like a secret trapped in a Pandora's Box that's finally being released, bursting out with all the heat and rage of a wildfire; it's too overwhelming, too much to bare.

 

So you give in. Just this once. You indulge yourself because being with John just so _easy_. As if he was meant to be a part of you from the beginning. Like two pieces of an abstract puzzle that just _click_ , even though they're meant to be on different sides of the board. But it's a false hope, a fantasy of what you know can never be...Still, you long to dream.

 

Closing your eyes transports you to a whole different world. He's there with you, green eyes vibrant like grass before a thunderstorm, just inches away from your face. His arms loop around your neck as he takes his mouth and presses it against yours, lips languid and slow, and you savor every second as you stroke yourself with your hand. His lips slide down to your neck, kissing and sucking and you moan. He steadily makes his way down your chest and abs, leaving soft kisses as his long fingers trace around every muscle and scar he can find, until finally he's on his knees with his fingers dancing around your thighs.

 

The image alone is enough to make you dizzy. Pale skin, tinted the most delicate shade of rose. Sage hair drenched from the water, combed back. Stray strands embrace the shape of his face, accentuating his high cheekbones and slender neck. Eyes looking up at you, darkened to a forest green; and lips reddened, plumped by precious kisses, pursed. It all just makes him look so mesmerizing, so seductive, so...

 

_Gorgeous..._

 

 

_"Bruce...Do you trust me?"_

 

You hear the words in your mind, wrapped in a quiet whisper; and you answer just the same.

 

_Always._

 

 

Your brow cringes as you keep your eyes shut, afraid that even the slightest break of concentration will make this all disappear. You know it's not really John. You know its wrong. But to dream of him, to fantasize of this....God you want it. You need it. And you groan as you watch him take your length in his hands, bring his lips towards the tip. He cups the base of your length with one hand, squeezing gently while the other slowly begins to stroke. He wraps his mouth against the tip, lapping at all the the ridges and edges, gliding against the slit and you're rendered speechless.

 

Cautiously, he takes your member deeper into his mouth, tongue curling and rubbing against it, while stroking the remainder with his hand. You wonder if John would start humming or giggling. The vision itself already makes your head spin. His thin delicate lips, wrapped around your cock, taking his time in the most antagonizing yet pleasurable way. You're already panting as you visualize his hands picking up the pace, finding yourself tilting closer to the edge. In the privacy of your home you let his name escape your lips, moaning and chanting between heavy breaths.

 

You wonder what he would do if you told him how much you loved him. Would he kiss you and hug you? Smile and say it back? You can only dream, and so you do.

 

He slides his lips off your cock, before climbing up to rest his face in the crook of your neck while using his hand to pump your member. You pretend the hot water is him peppering kisses across your shoulder. His hands readjust their position to get a better grip, and it's when you think of those iridescent eyes of his, gazing into yours as he whispers do you finally hit the edge.

 

 

_I love you too Bruce._

 

 

His arms wrap around your neck so he can kiss you on the lips, and you shudder as you climax. Your eyes open with the end of your release and you slide down against the wall to sit on the shower floor. Shame and guilt now build in your chest, and you silently mourn for what can never be. You sluggishly proceed to wash yourself while sitting on the shower floor, mind too preoccupied reminiscing over fantasies.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
After you dry off and slide into a pair of clean sweatpants, you drop carelessly onto your bed and stare up towards the ceiling. Before your mind falls back to thinking about John, your phone rings. You answer somberly, yet immediately suck in a breath as a familiar voice chimes on the other end.

 

 

"Hey Brucie, I've been trying to call you! Where have you been?"

 

Your throat dries out and you cough out your response.

 

"I've been in the shower-what's going on??"

 

"Not sure, but Harley said she wants both of us to meet her in front of her office A-SAP!"

 

"I'll be right there."

 

You wait for John's signature cheery sign-off, but it never comes. Instead you're greeted with dead silence, and you think for a second that the call might have been dropped, until you hear him speak up in a more hushed manner.

  
"Hey."

 

"Hey." You repeat.

 

"Are you..okay?"

 

  
Three little words to a question that somehow holds the same amount of weight as a ton of bricks. You try to lie, but the words are jailed in your throat, and for a second your mind plays tricks on you; falsely assuring that maybe fantasies can become real. You don't process how much silence has passed until John speaks up again.

 

"I-I don't want to pry Bruce, an-and I get it. We all have things we're not always comfortable talking about. Not yet anyways. But Dr.Leland said that its always important to be honest with yourself and how you're feeling. And I always found it really helpful to talk to her, so if you ever need someone to listen I'll totally be there for you."

 

You huff a smile as warmth spreads through your chest.

 

"Thanks John. I'm fine, really..."

 

You try to stop the sentence there. Not wanting to bother. But desire outranks your self-restraint, and before you know it the words just keep falling out.

 

"I...just keep having this reoccurring dream now and then, and it's a good one. I think it is at least...But then I wake up and I realize it was just a dream and-you know what, just, forget it. Don't worry about it, it's just a fantasy anyways."

  
You try to brush it off and withdrawal, wanting to hang up the phone. Yet as John hums thoughtfully, and you're rendered immobile.

 

"You know...Anything's possible Bruce-I mean I got to shake Batman's hand for Christ's sake! HA-would you believe it?! And I thought I was never going to get a chance to even _see_ him again after Arkham!! "

 

Giggles echo through the phone, and your smile grows.

 

"I guess you have a point," you respond as the giggling dies down.

 

" _Hehehe_ -ehm, hehe, the world works in mysterious ways Brucie. Don't give up on those fantasies just yet. Try wishing on a star, they might even come true-ehehe."

 

"It's worth a shot...Hey John."

 

"Yeah best buddy?"

 

"Tell Harley I'll be there in 20."

 

"Will do, see you soon!"

 

"Bye John."

 

_*click*_

 

 

 

  
"...Love you."

 

 


End file.
